


Deep Water

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: After Selina stands down as vice president Sue goes to work for Kent. Things do not go quite according to plan...





	Deep Water

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Intronerd for the suggestion.

Sue was used to “difficult “employers. She was used to stupid, lazy, or insulting employers, whom she relegated to powerless figureheads. She was used to micromanagers, whom she merely ignored. She was used to grabby, slurring, drunken employers, whom quickly learned to regret their choices.

She was not used to Kent Davison.

Accepting his job offer had been a “no-brainer.” He was intelligent, capable, and had a reputation as a stern and demanding employer who appreciated competence and rewarded hard work. Her compensation was generous. Her office was small but well appointed. He had allowed her to select her own assistant. His work assignments were typically complex and engaging, but she had always been able to parse their meaning.

Nonetheless he completely confused her.

He was utterly incapable of keeping a clear desk. He never wanted to dispose of anything. Sue had learned the hard way not to leave paperwork with him to sign. He’d sign it, and then it would disappear into the mountains of paper on his desk. She had to stand over him while he signed and whisk it away immediately.

Myrtle had suggested that. Myrtle was a mystery. She was an older black woman, Sue estimated her to be around seventy-five, who came into the office perhaps once a week, generally with paperwork for Kent to check or sign. Sometimes she had catalogues for him to look through. Myrtle talked to Kent as if he was a slightly stubborn child, but demanded that other staffers treat and discuss him with a respect bordering on reverence.

She and Sue had an uneasy, suspicious relationship. Sue had no idea what either of them was suspicious of, but Myrtle treated her with the watchful wariness of a cat facing an intruder. It was only natural that Sue would return it. However, Myrtle was too professional to sabotage Sue. When she had suggestions, they were honestly meant, if rudely expressed. Sue respected that.

She had considered asking Myrtle if she understood how someone as mentally precise as Kent could be so disorganised, or why he frequently stopped at Sue’s desk to non-sequitur some utterly random nonsense, or called her into his office to ramble about a book he’d read or a movie that he’d seen.

She never asked Myrtle any of these things, mostly because she suspected that Myrtle would consider the questions inappropriate. But, additionally, because it was more interesting not knowing. He was an enigma. Unlike many of her employers, Kent never asked Sue to do anything for him personally: not book vacations, arrange laundry, none of that sort of thing. When he wore a new suit, it was a surprise. When Ben Cafferty demanded to know why Kent was off for the day, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t have told him of course, but that wasn’t the point.

Working for most of her employers had meant being unpleasantly enmeshed in their private lives. She didn’t even know if Kent was dating. Probably not, if only because Myrtle would likely have a breakdown. In Sue’s opinion, people should date. Especially men. It kept them from getting too distracted and ensured they didn’t start humping the furniture.

‘Forgive me, have you changed your hair?’ Kent asked.

‘I had it chemically relaxed,’ Sue said warily. ‘It was enormously painful.’ She was tense now. Nothing good came from white people wanting to talk about her hair. They either said something offensive or wanted to touch it. Neither option appealed.

‘Well... it seems to be working for you,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ she said.

They stared at each other in silence for a second or two.

‘I should... Things to do.’

‘Of course, Sir.’

She watched him walk away. He had an oddly strutting walk that suggested unwavering confidence. It hinted at an arrogance that seemed at odds with his general demeanour. But it meshed with his other body language, particularly his continual man spreading. That had been... disconcerting, but it had quickly become obvious that it was entirely subconscious. He wasn’t attempting to intimidate anyone. He certainly wasn’t attempting to push anyone out of the way.

Not that Sue was in the habit of looking closely when he was sat in that manner. She certainly didn’t stare at his crotch. Definitely not.

Sue shook herself, pushing aside the disquieting thoughts.

Her cell chimed, reminding her of her upcoming lunch with Amy. Sue sighed internally. Amy had sounded a little hysterical, even for her. Sue liked Amy, but she did not miss the fervid panic and frenzy of working in the vice president’s office. It wasn’t Sue. It _was_ Amy.

***

‘What’s it like?’ Amy asked. ‘Is it weird?’

Sue looked at her over her plate. ‘It’s different.’

‘Like people chained to their calculators?’

Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘No.’

‘Then what?’ Amy asked.

‘Calm,’ Sue said. ‘There is no shouting, no swearing, and no threats. Everyone works quietly. The most exercised they become is when they debate which podcast to listen to. It’s generally something history or science based.’  

Amy recoiled from her. ‘That sounds awful.’

‘It’s not.’

‘You must be so bored.’

Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘No. The work is interesting. Additionally, I am never required to work late or weekends.’

Amy’s lips moved silently. ‘No weekends? No Sundays or…?’

‘No Sundays. No Saturdays. No weekends.’

Amy shook her head. ‘That is so nuts.’

‘And no late nights,’ Sue said. ‘He said it might be required but to date it hasn’t happened. I return home at around five-thirty.’

‘What do you with all that time? I can’t think of anything worse than having nothing to do for hours on end.’

Sue took a moment to check if Amy was joking, but she appeared to be quite serious.

‘There are other things of interest besides work,’ Sue said.

Amy sneered. ‘Like knitting or... whatever.’

‘I go to a MMA class three times a week,’ Sue said. ‘I read. I listen to music. I have a rich and satisfying life outside of work.’

‘I’ve got Ed,’ Amy said. She dropped her head into her hands. ‘I could fucking cry.’

Sue pursed her lips. ‘Don’t do that.’ She nibbled her lettuce. ‘You need a job, Amy. Not with Mr Davison. You would hate that.’

‘Shit!’

Sue clasped her hands together. ‘Mr Cafferty might be a better fit for you. I could ask Mr Davison if that would possible.’

Amy poked her steak. ‘Why would C3PO know if R2D2 is hiring?’

Sue shook her head. ‘They are on good terms.’

‘They’re always insulting each other.’ Amy pulled a face. ‘Don’t tell me it’s that fucking guy thing where they’re secretly best friends.’

‘Men are extremely strange in how they express themselves.’

‘That’s for fucking sure.’ Amy splashed wine into her glass. ‘So ... could you ask him?’

‘You’re buying lunch,’ Sue said.

‘Fuck.’

 ***

She did not approve of the state of his desk. She never said anything about it, but she knew that he knew, that she didn’t approve of it.

A little flinch when he looked up from his computer was the only indication from him that he felt her disapproval. But it was there all the same.

‘Miss Wilson, is there a problem?’

‘There’s no problem, Sir,’ Sue said. ‘A former co-worker asked if I could find out if Mr Cafferty is hiring.’

Kent surreptitiously pushed a notepad to one side. Sue made a mental note to look at it later.

‘Your ex-colleague asked you, to ask me, to ask Ben, if he’s hiring?’

‘Put like that it sounds somewhat circuitous,’ Sue acknowledged.

‘Somewhat,’ Kent said dryly. ‘Well, I’ll ask. Ben’s always hiring. His office has the general atmosphere of a Roman galley ship that’s sprung a leak.’

‘Amy would find that energising,’ Sue said. ‘She enjoys running around in a heedless frenzy. It’s why I dissuaded her from asking you. She wouldn’t fit into the general office atmosphere.’

Kent nodded thoughtfully. ‘I hope we’re distinctly different from the former vice president’s office.’

‘Definitely.’

‘I hope that you’re finding the work rewarding,’ he said cautiously.

Sue raised her eyebrow. ‘Despite the trope, I actually _am_ asking for a friend, or for Amy anyway.’

Kent lips twitched slightly. ‘I see. That is reassuring. Am I to take it that we’re discussing Amy Brookheimer?’

‘We are.’

Kent nodded. ‘I’ll ask Ben. I have no reservations about Amy.’

‘Thank you.’ Sue began to turn away but then thought again. ‘You haven’t asked me for a reciprocal favour.’

Kent blinked in surprise. ‘That’s not necessary.’

‘It’s how things are done.’

‘Uh…’ Kent said. ‘Well, uh, you work for me. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to… Don’t worry about it.’

‘As you like,’ Sue said.

* * *

He didn’t travel as much Selina did, but there was an upcoming conference in Hawaii in several weeks, which he seemed uncommonly enthusiastic about. Hawaii. On the beach. In the height of summer. The hotel was five stars and all inclusive.

Sue was well compensated, but it would have taken some considerable time for her to afford a vacation of that nature.

‘But it’s a _conference_ ,’ Amy said. ‘It’s not fun.’

Sue shook her head. ‘Please. Three days and each day finishes before four p.m. and starts at 10 a.m. For someone of his level, that is a vacation.’

‘But it’s a polling conference,’ Amy said. ‘You’d be bored to tears.’

‘He works in polling. I work adjacent to polling. For free alcohol on the beach, I would cope with discussions on variables and sampling systems.’

‘Jesus,’ Amy said. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Does Ben have similar?’

Amy rolled her eyes. ‘Ben’s idea of a fantastic conference would be him sat in a room, one his own, non-stop drinking for three days.’

‘It would be more efficient if he simply shot himself in the head,’ Sue said crisply.

Amy snorted. ‘What about Ben makes you think he’s at all interested in efficiency?’

Sue pursed her lips. ‘I see your point.’

***

‘... am I proving tedious. Miss Wilson?’

Sue set her shoulders. He didn’t sound angry so much as curious and somewhat irritated.

‘Somewhat, Sir,’ she said.

It was intended as humour. Humour that carried a sliver of truth. It was a complex balance and one, given his expression, which she had failed to achieve.

‘I do not get invited to three-day conferences in luxury hotels at exotic resorts in Hawaii,’ Sue said. ‘I have a limited attentive span for hearing about the fact that you are.’

She stopped. She was waiting for his response but it dragged for long enough for her to grow uncomfortable.

‘Miss Wilson, you are at work,’ Kent said. ‘I am your employer, not your friend, relative, or whoever it is that you think it is appropriate to address in that manner or that tone. Neither is appropriate and that attitude is inexcusable. I trust that is clear. I wouldn’t wish to test your limited attention span.’

Sue was staring at the neat diamond pattern on his tie. She managed a nod. ‘Yes, Sir, I understand.’

She considered going home, but that was pathetic. She considered looking for a new position, but that was childish. She had been disciplined at work before. It was deeply unpleasant, but she hadn’t wept or complained, even when it was unfair. It had irritated her. It hadn’t disturbed her as much as this did.

Myrtle made her a hot chocolate. Myrtle never made Sue a drink. She made the hot chocolate and put in on Sue’s desk along with a cookie.

‘He’ll calm down later,’ Myrtle said.

So, he was telling people. Perhaps considering her position was not as impulsive an idea as she thought.

Kent took an early lunch. As he walked past her workspace he threw something onto her desk. A fat envelope.

Sue opened the envelope and tipped out plane tickets and hotel details along with the itinerary for the conference in a few weeks. The tickets had been booked two weeks ago. The hotel room had been booked at the same time.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

***

Her mother clucked her tongue. ‘He means to make you his mistress?’

Sue choked on her sandwich. When she managed to clear her throat, she swallowed water quickly.

‘He does not!’

Her mother raised her eyebrows. ‘This man wants to take you to a hotel and you think that he does not mean to sleep with you?’

Sue patted her face with her napkin.

‘It’s a conference.’

Her mother slapped the top of Sue’s head. Sue narrowed her eyes.

‘I did not raise you to be so naive. If a rich white man wants to take you to a hotel, doesn’t ask you, tells you, then he is going to sleep with you. Whatever you think about it, sex will happen.’

She was sure that her mother was wrong. D. C. was full of men with roaming hands, and worse. Women in D.C. passed on warnings and looked out for each other. She had been warned about Jonah, and Dan’s tendency to use and discard women, and even about Andrew Meyer. But never Kent. There had never been a hint or a suggestion that he was anything but respectful with women. Not even Selina, who ranted about Kent with a viciousness and venom unparalleled, had even implied that his behaviour was inappropriate.

Sue had heard the rumours about Kent and Selina. In Sue’s opinion, any attraction ran purely one way. He had never seemed particularly interested in Selina, certainly not to the extent she was in him, and as soon as Selina had vacated the vice presidency, she had apparently ceased to exist in Kent’s world. There was certainly no evidence of an steamy, on-going affair.

Sue was sure her mother was wrong. Almost certainly.

Sue didn’t want to return to work after lunch. However, that was life. It was hard and full of things that she would rather avoid. Like Adam Sandler movies. Ugh.

Kent was already in his office when Sue returned. He had left her a note in his oddly beautiful, calligraphic handwriting: Please come see me when you have a few moments.

He was going to fire her. Or he was going to make her beg for the conference. Neither were tolerable.

Sue hung up her jacket, put her bag away, and knocked on his door.

‘Come in.’ He sounded tired.

When she walked in he gave her a wan smile and gestured at the guest chair.

Sue sat cautiously and crossed her legs. ‘Sir.’

Kent rubbed his eyes. ‘Miss Wilson, I wanted to apologise.’

‘…oh.’

‘I have been reminded that you had no way of knowing I was going to invite you to the conference,’ he said. ‘I have also been reminded that I am often unaware that my enthusiasm is not reciprocated. I talk too much and in too much detail.’ He winced. ‘I bore people. I irritate them. I evidently both bored and irritated you. For that I also apologise.’

Sue was squirming is discomfort. She would have preferred being terminated. At least he wouldn’t be embarrassing them both.

‘I will be more careful in the future,’ she said. ‘That my initial intent was humorous was lost due to my tone.’

He leaned forward. ‘You don’t really make jokes,’ he said mildly. ‘And you sounded pissed.’ He shook his head. ‘You had a right to be annoyed. Maybe we can work on my being less annoying and you expressing it without snarling at me.’

Sue’s back clenched. ‘Excuse me?’

Kent winced. ‘What did I say?

‘The world “snarling” implies animalistic behaviour,’ Sue said. ‘It’s charged language and I don’t appreciate an implicit implication of being a dog or other wild animal.’

She didn’t know that she had ever seen a person go so red, so quickly. It was, in its way, more reassuring than anything he could have said.

‘I... I.. I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Sue nodded. ‘I can see that.’

‘It wasn’t my intention to...’ Kent put his head in his hands.

‘Perhaps we can start over,’ Sue offered, taking pity on him.

‘I would like that,’ Kent said quietly, looking up. ‘Miss Wilson, would you accompany me to the conference? There are briefings and training sessions that I believe you will find quite useful.’

Sue clasped her hands together.’ May I ask why you haven’t mentioned this until now?’

He looked distinctly sheepish. ‘I know that compared to the vice president’s office we must seem quite staid and dull. I thought you might appreciate the surprise.’

‘Ah, Sue said. ‘I do. Thank you. I would be happy to accompany you.

‘Excellent.’

***

‘Are you fucking now?’ Amy asked.

Sue stared at her. ‘Why do people keep asking me that?’

‘Because you’re going to a hotel with your boss,’ Amy said. ‘Duh.’

‘We’re not sleeping together,’ Sue said severely. ‘He has never demonstrated the slightest indication of sexual interest in me.’

Amy sipped her cosmopolitan. ‘Are you sure? We’re talking about Kent. He’s got autism or some fucking thing. Who knows what him trying to flirt looks like.’

Sue gave it some thought. ‘I have heard that theory before. Whether he does or not is not the issue. We’re not sleeping together and I have no intention of sleeping with him. I do not need that reputation.’

‘Plus, he’s old.’ Amy said. ‘You don’t want him having a heart attack while he’s fucking you.’

‘He’s not even sixty,’ Sue said. ‘And he’s in excellent health.’

Amy gave her a look. ‘Kinda defensive there.’

‘Merely factual.’

‘He’s not married,’ Amy said. ‘If cogs and gears are what does it for you...’

‘I have no feelings for Mr Davison of a sexual nature whatsoever.’

***

Motorcycle leathers.

He was wearing motorcycle leathers.

Sue stood mute as he put his helmet down on the corner of his desk, and bent over to look at the paperwork.

‘Mr Cafferty was insistent that it be signed now,’ Sue said.

‘Naturally,’ Kent said. ‘Ben cannot stand to see me having a day off.’

His jacket had ridden up just enough to show the way the denim skimmed his ass.

‘You’re in a club?’ she asked, when he stood up.

‘You didn’t say “gang” and for that you have my gratitude.’

Sue straightened her sleeves. ‘I know the difference. I rode a little when I was younger.’

He smiled. ‘I didn’t know that. What did you ride?’

‘A Yamaha FZR400.’ Sue squeezed her hands together. ‘A hand-me-down from my brother when he was posted abroad.’

Kent raised his eyes. ‘Army?’

‘Air Force.’

‘My sister was a tank driver.’

Sue smiled. ‘That is somehow less surprising than you riding a motorbike.’

‘I hate to be too predictable,’ Kent said. ‘Do you still ride?’

‘No. A friend of mine was badly injured in an accident. It tempered my enthusiasm.’

‘That’s a shame,’ he said. ‘Did they recover?’

It caught her by surprise. In the second or two between the sentences, she assumed her meant her giving up riding.

‘Eventually,’ Sue said. ‘But I couldn’t enjoy it after that.’

He nodded. ‘It can be profoundly disturbing.’

‘Yes.’

He picked up his helmet. ‘I need to go. We’re doing a charity ride. I don’t want to be late.’

‘Be careful,’ she said automatically. Thoughtlessly.

His look was interrogative but not without warmth. ‘I will be.’

***

Sue was hiding in the restaurant bathroom. She was never agreeing to a blind date again. She was also going to track down Sally, the so-called “college friend” who had set up the date, and throw her out of a window.

Sue called Amy, who didn’t answer. Then she sent a text. Another text.

Her cell began to ring and she answered it without checking the ID.

‘You need to help me, right now. I am on the blind date from hell with a man who murdered his girlfriend!’

There as a long pause and someone asked, ‘where are you?’

Someone who was definitely not Amy.

Someone who was definitely male.

‘Who is this?’ Sue asked.

‘It’s Kent.’

Sue closed her eyes. ‘I beg your pardon, Sir, I was expecting a call from Amy Brookheimer.’

‘Sue, if you need assistance, I am willing to offer it.’ He was clearly moving about a room.

Sue let out a breath. The brisk, no-nonsense tone was a dose of reality and reassurance.

‘I’m at the _Blue Palace_ ,’ she did.

‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,’ Kent said. ‘Where in the restaurant will you be?’

‘Our table is by the bar, ‘she said. ‘I can certainly stretch the meal to that extent.’

‘I’ll see you in fifteen minutes,’ Kent said.

‘Thank you.’

Sue took several breaths and then stood up. When she spoke to Sally, they were going to have words. Many words.

She returned to the restaurant and took her chair.

‘Where are you?’ he demanded.

‘In the bathroom? Sue picked up her glass.

‘Don’t lie to me!’ he yelled.

There was a horrible, brittle silence. Heads turned towards them. A server strode over to the table.

‘Is there a problem?’ she asked Sue.

‘I hope not.’

‘Fuck off,’ her date said.

‘Sir, there is no need to use language of that nature to me.’

The manager joined the server at the table. ‘Miss, would you like a different table?’ he said to Sue.

‘This is some bullshit! I am –’

‘Yes, I would like another table,’ Sue said.

Her date was on his feet, pushing the manger. Sue stood and stepped away as the pushing turned to shoving.

‘Sue?’

She turned around. Kent held out his hand and led her to an alcove.

‘That wasn’t fifteen minutes!’ she said.

‘I was quite concerned. I came on my bike, it’s faster.’ He took some money out of his wallet. ‘Let’s pay and get you out of here.’

She should have said a dozen different things, but she went with the one on her mind.

‘On your bike?

‘I apologise. I wasn’t thinking,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you an Uber.’

‘No, it’s fine. I would rather ride with you.’

Kent looked at her closely. Really looked at her. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said. ‘I know riding would make you uncomfortable.’

Sue straightened her back. ‘Sir, I feel safer on the back of your bike than in an Uber driver by a stranger.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh. Um. Right. Let’s go then.’

***

His motorbike gleamed in the streetlights. It was a brutal, artificial light but it complemented the hard chrome lines and slick rubber of Kent’s motorbike. He took the extra helmet from the bike and handed it to her.

‘I’ll go slow,’ he promised. ‘Shall I take you home or perhaps to a friend’s?’

‘Home please, Sir.’

He put on his helmet. ‘We’re not at work. You can call me Kent.’

‘Thank you, Kent.’

His bike was solid and well-constructed with a rear passenger seat that had its own back rest. The bike exuded a sense of quiet competence and masculinity. It would do its job, perhaps with a flash of idiosyncratic personality, but with no fuss. Sue climbed onto the bike and was thankful that she had chosen to wear a pantsuit that night.

Kent handed her his jacket. ‘You’ll get cold.’

She hesitated but then put it on. It was heavy, thick leather that was surprisingly soft to the touch. She got a firm grip on the bike. She told herself that he was going to drive slowly. He’d promised.

He was true to his word. The bike prowled along the D.C. streets, just nudging the speed limit.

She wasn’t surprised that he was a thoughtful, careful driver.

She was surprised when he asked after her date.

‘I imagine this has rather taken the shine off Tinder for you,’ he said, as they idled at a traffic junction.

‘I do not use Tinder,’ Sue said. ‘This date was arranged by an old college friend.’

‘Did you steal her dissertation?’

‘Evidently I did _something_ heinous.’

Sue shivered. The evening was relatively warm but the bike whipped up a breeze that seemed to cut through her clothes.

‘Is there a problem?’ Kent asked.

‘No. Did I throw off your balance?’

‘It’s nothing I can’t compensate for,’ Kent said. ‘We’re nearly at your address.’

It was early enough for there to be a few people around. A few of her neighbours that saw her coming home on the back of a Harley.

‘Did you meet him at the restaurant?’ Kent asked as he parked.

‘No, he picked me up.’ Sue turned sideways and took off her helmet.

Kent pursed his lips as he looked up at Sue’s house. ‘From your house?’

‘Yes. Oh.’ Sue took his offered hand and climbed off the bike. ‘He knows where I live.’

There was a long, uncomfortable moment.

‘Would I be able to get a... glass of water?’ Kent asked. ‘Or similar.’

Sue relaxed slightly. ‘Of course. Please come inside.’

As they walked up the steps, she was very aware that she was wearing a more revealing top then she would ever wear at work. She was firmly of the opinion that business wear should not be titillating. Kent had several suits where the pants were far too tight. Nobody wanted to see a senior strategist’s bulging crotch or surprisingly tight ass.

‘Sue?’ Kent prompted. ‘Everything okay?’

She shoved her key into the lock. ‘I have a lot on my mind.’

‘Understandable.’

She turned on the light as they walked inside. She was still wearing his jacket. It swung as she walked, easily following her movements.

‘Thank you,’ she said, shrugging out of the jacket, and handing it over. ‘I didn’t finish my food. Are you hungry?’

It occurred to her, as she spoke, that he might have misunderstood. That she might have misunderstood. That he was genuinely asking for a glass of water.

Kent held his jacket under his arm. ‘I haven’t eaten,’ he said. ‘Can I help in the kitchen?’

Sue’s mouth twitched slightly. ‘I should go and get changed first. The kitchen is through there if you’d like to put the coffee machine on.’

Kent nodded agreeably. ‘I can do that.’

She went upstairs and slipped out of her shoes and dress. She removed her makeup, took off her earrings, and let down her hair.

She considered what to wear. Her instinct was to put on something smart casual, but that might give Kent the wrong impression. She was still shaking after the confrontation in the restaurant. She was sure that Kent would never treat her that way, but the thought of having him make a pass, of having to refuse that pass, was exhausting.

She put on a pair of jeans, a tee, and a hoodie. No make-up. That couldn’t be misconstrued. It couldn’t be.

Kent was in the kitchen, looking in the refrigerator. He’d hung his jacket up, and she could see the hint of something dark just above his collar bone.

‘Do you have a tattoo?’ Sue asked.

He jumped, actually startled at her appearance in the room. When he turned to face her, he looked sheepish.

‘I was somewhere else entirely.’

‘What were you looking for?’ she asked.

‘Some dish that might be cooked quickly and simply. I thought perhaps an omelette.’

Sue sat down at the table. ‘There are eggs in the door.’

‘Have you noticed on television that people always keep eggs in bowls for some reason?’

Sue nodded. ‘Yes. It’s nonsensical.’ She watched him assembling ingredients on the counter. ‘Do you enjoy cooking?’

‘I _can_ cook,’ he said. ‘I prefer baking.’

‘Do you have a tattoo?’ she asked. ‘On your back. It looks as though you might.’

He looked mildly surprised. ‘You have a good eye.’

She pointed to the base of her neck. ‘I could see something just there.’

‘It’s a Japanese tattoo.’

Sue’s heart dropped. ‘What’s it supposed to say and what does it _actually_ say?’

He started laughing. ‘Not Japanese text,’ he said. ‘I don’t have some random words tattooed onto me because I think it looks “cool.” It’s a piece of art. A stormy ocean tattooed in the Japanese style.’

‘Because it looked cool?’ she asked, still cautious.

Kent shook his head. ‘Because I was in Japan. I was recovery from a period of... melancholia. We memorialise victories but not overcoming difficulties. They should be memorialised as well as victories. They teach us far more.’

Sue crossed her legs. ‘I’ve never been to Japan.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Kent said. ‘There’s a rich culture and vibrant history.’

‘I don’t travel as much as I like,’ Sue said. ‘It’s prohibitively expensive.’

‘I did that thing everyone now sneers at youths for doing,’ Kent said. ‘I went travelling. Worked jobs picking produce or similar. Walked a lot. Rowed at lot. It was good for me.’

‘Despite the melancholia,’ Sue said.

‘The melancholia was the reason I went,’ he said. ‘Home was untenable.’ He tapped his fingers on the worktop. ‘Was that too much information?’

Sue gave it some thought. ‘I believe it was an appropriate amount of information. There were no distressing details.’

‘I wouldn’t wish to distress you,’ he said.

‘You didn’t.’ She stood up. ‘Coffee.’

‘Yes.’

He licked his lips as she stood next to him.

‘Do you disapprove of tattoos, Sue?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘I disapprove of idiocy, of making permanent physical changes based on temporary fashions, and of using facets of other cultures as an accessory. You did none of those things.’

‘I fear your disapproval would be a terrible thing,’ he said.

Sue scanned his face. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were warm. ‘Are you teasing me, Sir?’

‘I was trying to.’

Sue fought a smile. ‘You should know that my displeasure is a cruel and wicked thing.’

‘I see.’ He nodded.

‘As is my pleasure,’ she added. In an entirely different way.’

Now he was smiling. ‘Ah. That is good to know.’

She was about to say something... Something clever and devastating, when her cell rang.

‘Well, it’s not me,’ Kent said, returning to the food.

It was Amy’s name on her caller ID. Sue walked into the living room.

‘I called you nearly ninety-minutes ago,’ Sue said.

‘I don’t sit around waiting for you to call,’ Amy retorted.

Sue frowned. ‘I was on a blind date. You agreed to sit around waiting for me to call. Literally.’

She heard Amy suck in her breath.

‘Fuck,’ Amy said. ‘But you’re okay so...’

‘He attempted to strike me. When we were leaving the restaurant, the staff were threatening to call the police if he didn’t leave.’

Sue glanced back through the kitchen door. Kent certainly moved as if he knew what he was doing, but he always did.

‘When you were leaving he wouldn’t leave?’ Amy said. ‘Are you drunk?’

‘Are _you_?’ Sue retorted. ‘Why would I leave with him?’

‘You said we,’ Amy said.

Sue covered her eyes with her hands. ‘I did not get Stockholm Syndrome over the space of two cocktails and an appetiser.’

Amy growled loudly. ‘Ugh, fine! I suck. Are you at the police station? Do you need picking up?’

‘No, I’m at home worrying that he will come here.’

‘Jesus, you wanna come and stay here?’ Amy offered.

Sue looked back through the crack in the door. Kent was whistling as he cooked the omelettes.

‘No, I don’t think that’s necessary.’

***

Sue poured two glasses of wine. Kent reached for one and hesitated.

‘I have a spare room.’ Sue said with uncharacteristic diffidence. ‘If you like.’

‘Okay,’ he said, and took the glass.

Sue tucked her feet up under her. ‘Why did you call? At the restaurant.’

He pulled a face. ‘POTUS asked me for a report for tomorrow. I was going to ask you to come back to work.’

Sue gulped her mouthful of wine. ‘What? You had a report for POTUS and instead you came to the restaurant?’

Kent rubbed his forehead. ‘My meeting with POTUS isn’t until nine. I’ll go in early and do the report.’

Sue pursed her lips. ‘If that was practical then you would not have called me.’ She stood up and walked to the door.

‘Where are you going?’ Kent asked suspiciously.

‘To get my laptop so we can work.’

Kent shook his head. ‘Sue, it’s really not necessary.’

She flashed him a look over her shoulder. ‘I don’t need to be cosseted or protected from my job.’

It was slightly, very slightly, a relief. As Sue collected her laptop, she considered how she had taken a real risk in asking him to stay. He wouldn’t have ever forced himself on her, she was completely confident in that, but if he had contrived to tease, to gently flirt in his own weird way, then she might have taken him to her bed.

Downstairs, Kent had moved to the dining table and was using it as a desk. He had cleared away the remains of the meal and turned up the lights.

‘I’ll make a pot of tea,’ Sue said. ‘And then we can start.’

***

Kent stood up and stretched, his hands parallel to the ceiling, and then bent over, touching his palms to the floor.

‘What are you doing?’ Sue asked, blearily pretending to watch the screen and not his body.

‘You’re merely envious that you don’t share my flexibility.’

Sue snorted. ‘I have no desire to touch my toes. I will stick with my ability to kill a man with a single punch.’

‘Do you find that useful in a daily basis?’

‘Yes.’

Kent checked his watch. ‘I think we should probably call it a night.’

‘We should read through this draft again,’ Sue said, yawning.

‘Sue, it’s after two a.m., we can continue in the morning.’

She was shaking her head as he took the laptop from her. ‘I can –’

‘Sue, go to bed,’ Kent said. ‘This can wait.’

‘I refuse to be the reason that you miss a deadline with POTUS.’

Kent turned off the laptop. ‘Okay. I’m not going to miss the deadline, and I’m a grown-up who can take responsibility for my choices. Any issues with the report are not your concern. Go to bed. If we’re exhausted then we will be operating at diminished capacity.’

‘Fine,’ Sue said. She pushed back her hair. ‘I wanted to thank you for –’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ he interrupted.

He was looking away. Avoiding meeting her eyes.

‘I didn’t realise you were the kind of man embarrassed by gratitude.’

He practically writhed in self-consciousness. ‘It’s not necessary or even appropriate. Anyone would have done it, so let’s move on. Would you show me your guest room?’

‘Of course,’ Sue said.

Not appropriate. Only Kent would even consider that to be an issue.

She led him upstairs and into the guest room. For the first time, she was made faintly uncomfortable by the floral bedclothes.

‘My mother normally is the only person sleeps in here.’

Kent shook his head as he pulled off his motorcycle boots.

‘It’s perfectly acceptable.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ Sue said.

‘Goodnight, Sue.’

As she left the room, she pulled the door closed, but paused while Kent was pulling off his t-shirt. She saw his firm chest and then, as he turned, a flash of the stormy sea tattoo. Sue silently shut the door and walked away.

He was her employer. He was significantly older.

He didn’t sleep with her employers. She didn’t date older men.

She was disconcerted after her date. That was all. In the morning, she would be calm and controlled.

***

‘Jesus, will you just fuck him already?’ Amy said. ‘Don’t gimme that look. Every third word out of your mouth is “Kent.” Christ knows why you wanna fuck him, but it’s clear that you do. So just do it already.’

‘I listened to you droning on about Dan,’ Sue said. ‘On so many occasions.’

‘What? No, that is...’ Amy gave a brittle laugh. ‘I don’t feel anything Dan.’

‘I don’t feel anything for Kent,’ Sue said tartly.

‘And that’s why you keep talking about him.’

‘Likewise.’

***

Myrtle was definitely a little warmer towards Sue. Sue wandered precisely what Kent had told her. The midnight report had been turned on time, if with slightly… unusual phrasing from time to time. Sleep deprivation had inspired some mistakes but they caught them all before Kent had presented the report. After the report, Kent had locked himself in his office for three hours. Sue hadn’t _heard_ snoring, but the light had been turned off. When he emerged, he asked Sue if she wanted to take the afternoon off. She didn’t, but she appreciated the thought.

‘In case,’ Myrtle said, giving her a card with her number.

Sue was getting ready for the conference the following day. She had a thousand things to organise and now this.

‘In case of what?’

‘You know better than to be too specific,’ Myrtle sniffed. ‘It reduces the mystique.’

Sue acknowledged the point. ‘Is there anything that you think I should know?’

It was an extremely loaded question. Sue had intended it to be so.

‘I’ll give it some thought,’ Myrtle said.

She apparently gave it a great deal of thought. In the morning, Myrtle handed Sue a folder, complete with neatly labelled tabs. There were sections marked up with the names of various people, along with “diet,” “medical,” and “interests.” Interests was by far the largest section.

‘Things that you should know,’ Myrtle said.

‘This appears extremely thorough,’ Sue said, looking through it.

‘Some of his interests are quite… esoteric. I have given a short precis for each of them, including all the relevant details.’

‘Thank you,’ Sue said.

Myrtle sniffed. ‘Don’t make me regret it.’

They went to the airport in the afternoon. Sue had never flown business class before and, although she was mildly disappointed it wasn’t first class, she was quite anticipating decent legroom and more comfortable seating.

She wasn’t thinking about three days in Hawaii with Kent.

She wasn’t.

Sue read a novel on the flight, while Kent watched a movie on his iPad with his earphones in. Every now and then she glanced across at his screen. He seemed to be watching... A superhero movie? That couldn’t be right.

Sue discreetly opened the folder that Myrtle had given her and checked the “interests” index.

Superheroes were not specifically listed, nor were comics. But graphic novels were, as were “movies.” Sue wasn’t sure what the difference was supposed to be between comics and graphic novels, except that grown men apparently felt better about admitting to graphic novels. A redheaded, black-clad woman, very definitely a woman, ran across his screen. Kent shifted slightly in his seat.

It was like that, was it?

***

Their rooms were on different floors. Kent didn’t seem disappointed or even much surprised. Sue was uncomfortable with her own small twinge of disappointment. She was there as his colleague. He hadn’t given her the faintest indication that it was anything else. That idiocy was the product of minds with too little else to occupy themselves. Like her mother. And Amy.

Sue had a shower, got dressed, and went to explore the hotel and environs. The conference schedule would begin with a meal at eight. That left her with a few hours to herself. That would have never happened with Selina. She rattled from one disaster another, constantly changing her mind and contradicting herself, with such speed that there was little or no spare time to be had.

The only time that Kent had sudden deadlines was when POTUS did, and that was surprisingly rare. It was almost as if the majority of Selina’s problems were self-induced.

Outside, there was a zephyr carrying the scent of flowers. The sun was on the cusp of beginning its long, slow descent and the heat was fading gently into a comfortable warmth. Sue strolled towards the beach, enjoying the breeze on her bare shoulders. Washington D.C. did grow warm in the summer, but it was a humid and oppressive heat.

It was easy to forget why she was there. If it wasn’t for the nascent grumble in her stomach she might have forgotten about the meal entirely. Generally speaking, spending an evening with statisticians and pollsters was far from her idea of fun, however she had met a few in her tenure with Kent, and they were certainly more tolerable than most politicians. They were frequently awkward, often rude, and sometimes incoherent. But there was a genuineness to them. They had no agenda and made no pretence of principles. They were beholden to the numbers and nothing else. Sue found that rather refreshing.

She saw more women then she was expecting. They were generally the female equivalent of Kent; mature, conservatively dressed, but clearly with a certain _oddness_. Not wrongness. She would never say that. But there was a crisp, distinct incongruity. A sense that they knew very well that they didn’t quite fit in with mainstream society. An edge, because they rejected the rejection of that mainstream society.

As she walked, as she strolled around the resort and the beach, at least two different women undressed Sue with their eyes. Sue had never found that taste to her taste, but she preened at the attention. That these intelligent, capable women would find her desirable was certainly no small affirmation.

***

There were complementary drinks in the bar from seven. Sue hadn’t eaten since the paltry sandwich on the plane at two. She offered the most desultory responses to the men greeting her and concentrated on her goal: pushing her way through to the bar. She had two glasses of wine in quick succession and, somewhat reluctantly, took her third to a table where she sat and glowered at the room at large.

She saw Kent enter the room and look around. He was immediately snagged by a young woman with long red hair and a braying voice.

Ugh.

Sue sipped her wine as she watched Kent talk while edging closer to the bar. He didn’t have Sue’s ruthlessness. But he was persistent, he gradually drifted to the bar, forcing the woman and her companion to follow him. It was interesting and, Sue suspected, indicative of his general approach. He was polite, calm, and tolerant, but kept his goal in mind.

As Sue finished her third glass of wine, Kent was accepting a glass of some amber liquid. Probably whiskey, but with Kent who knew. The file that Myrtle had given Sue had been intriguingly eclectic. None of Kent’s interests appeared connected or similar but instead seemed utterly random. If he had gone to the bar and asked for a whiskey, an orange juice, or a Sex on the Beach, each would have been as banal or as mystifying as the others.

A woman asked the room at large for quiet, and then for attention, and then for everyone to come and sit down. There was a chart with table allocations on it. Sue wobbled over to the chart and squinted as she looked for her name.

‘We appear to be on table twelve,’ Kent said.

Sue blinked at him owlishly. ‘I didn’t see you there, Sir.’

Kent’s lips twitched slightly. ‘Are you feeling quite well, Sue?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ she said firmly.

Kent offered her his arm. ‘Would you care to accompany me?’

***

Tiny… food. Tiny food. Always… Always tiny food at these things… Wine! Good. Bottles on the… table. New bottles. Full bottles. Empty… glass. Sad. Sad empty glass.

‘Sue, perhaps this is a good time to leave.’

Someone. Kent. Pulling her to her… whoo.

‘I… Ate something…’ Sue mumbled.

Arm around her. Shoes. Shoes slipping. Shoes tripping.

‘Which floor is your room?’ Kent asked.

Sue dug into her bag for her key card. ‘Four? Fuck. Contacts. Broken.’

‘You wear contacts?’

‘Shhh! Girls who wear glasses don’t make passes… something…’

Chuckles. ‘That’s a very old-fashioned idea. Glasses can be charming.’

‘Four. Definitely four.’

Elevator. Ding. Doors. Shoes. Falling…

‘Ow!’

‘Wait, let me unstrap these for you.’

Warm hands. Warm skin. Feet on the carpet. Stretch.

‘Ladies shoes so often appear an intersection between pain and beauty.’

‘What?’

‘Ah, perhaps a conversation for another time.’

Door. Slot. No. No.

‘Allow me.’

‘Kent. Kent. I’m going… I’m going to be sick.’

‘Just try to hold it in until you get to the… Ah. How unfortunate.’

***

Sue looked after her skin. She cleansed, toned, and moisturised. She did not go to bed with a full face of make-up. Her skin felt tight and itchy as she scrubbed off last night’s make-up.

Sue did not get blackout drunk. She was quite aware of the events of the previous evening. She knew that the reason she had gone to bed with a full face of make-up was that Kent had put her to bed. It was a minor miracle that he had taken out her contact lenses. It was a major miracle that he had done so without poking her in the eye. He had even put them neatly in their container on the sink.

Her clothes had been left soaking in the sink. That was the only… irritating portion of the evening. She had obviously eaten something that disagreed with her. She certainly wasn’t in the habit of throwing up after only a glass or two of wine.

She wasn’t surprised to see that Kent was at breakfast before her. She was slightly surprised when he smiled at her and stood up to pull a chair out for her.

‘Good morning, Sir,’ she said, managing to keep her chin up and look him in the eye.

‘Would you care for some coffee, or perhaps some tea?’ Kent asked.

Sue crossed her legs. ‘I would like some coffee, thank you.’

Kent poured her a cup of coffee and then a glass of water.

‘I have some painkillers,’ he said in a helpful tone.

Sue felt her face flush. ‘I’ve taken some, thank you.’

‘Ah.’

Sue ordered her breakfast from the waitress. She watched Kent meticulously buttering his toast. How did he not get food in his beard or moustache? She had seen him eat and drink but had never seen a stray crumb.

‘Did you manage to clean your suit?’ she asked. ‘Thank you for putting my dress in the sink to soak.’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘It wasn’t a very attractive suit.’

‘I ruined your suit,’ Sue said flatly.

‘No,’ Kent said. ‘It was possibly salvageable but I decided that I would buy a new one than deal with it.’

‘Oh,’ Sue said.

The waitress put Sue’s food on the table.

‘Are you feeling quite well?’ Kent asked. ‘A little nervous perhaps?’

It took her a moment to parse his meaning. ‘A glass of wine helps me to relax,’ she admitted.

He nodded. ‘Do you find it difficult to relax?’

‘At times,’ she said. ‘I work extremely hard.’

Kent smiled. ‘I’m well aware.’

Sue pushed her food around. ‘Are you waiting for an apology?’

Now his cheeks flushed. ‘No, no. I was... I was merely trying to ascertain if there was a problem. If you needed some assistance.’

Sue watched him while she considered this. Not his words, which were deliberately, blandly inoffensive, but the meaning behind them.

‘There’s no problem,’ Sue said. ‘I don’t need any assistance.’

Kent lifted his palms. ‘Good. Good to know.’

Sue sipped her coffee. ‘Thank you for asking.’

He shrugged. ‘It could be argued that I have a… obligation to ask. As a responsible employer.’ He gave her a sheepish little smile.

It was charming. Sue didn’t generally trust charm. It was generally insincere and manipulative. This was neither insincere not manipulative.

Sue was charmed.

***

He knew a lot of people at the conference. Every time one of them approached him, he made sure to introduce Sue as his colleague. Not his secretary, not even his assistant, but his colleague. It was a small thing. But it was also a meaningful thing.

Selina had never suggested to Sue that she would enjoy a conference or that training would be beneficial for her. On the rare occasions that Selina had taken Sue to any kind of event, she had _never_ introduced Sue to anyone. Selina generally treated Sue the same way as she treated all of her staffers, as part of the office equipment.

The training and briefing sessions were interesting enough to hold Sue’s concentration. Lunch was spent making contacts and having Kent explain some of the finer details of the sessions. After the sessions ended they parted until the dinner. Sue got changed in her room and went to the hotel spa.

She exercised for a little while, less than she wanted but more than she enjoyed, and then had a shower followed by a massage. The swimming pool was adjacent to the spa with a glass wall between them. As she turned her head, she could see a dozen people splashing about. And one cutting sleekly through the water.

A masculine form with a swimmer’s build, all long legs and sinews. As he swam past her, she saw a complex, intricate tattoo on his back. His hair was slicked back, making the mingled shades of grey look darker than normal. He was wearing goggles, and tiny, clinging shorts.

Sue watched him turn around at the end of swimming pool and surface for air. Then he dove again beneath the water and began his return.

She shouldn’t be watching him. He had no idea that she was there.

He was still swimming when her massage finished. Sue preferred her exercise to be less passive, nonetheless there was something oddly hypnotic about his smooth movement through the water.

He wouldn’t be able to continue for long: there was an influx of people with pool noodles and other accessories. The time for quiet contemplation was over, now it was dive bombing and obnoxious “pranks.” Sue wrapped her robe around her and went out to the pool. There was a lot of shouting and shoving as the lifeguard struggled to get control. Sue could see Kent swimming underwater as two teenagers fought at the edge of the pool.

It was almost inevitable when they sipped, when they fell, when they threw up great showers of water.

She couldn’t see Kent.

Sue strode to the side of the pool. The idiot boys were screaming and flailing, churning up water.

She couldn’t see Kent.

She grabbed the smaller boy by the hair and dragged him screaming from the pool. Underneath she saw Kent. He wasn’t moving. Blood was curling in the water like smoke in the air.

Sue dropped her robe and dove into the water. The chlorine burned her eyes. The muted echoes bounced around the water. She got an arm around Kent’s chest. He was heavy. He was limp. Sue kicked her feet and fought her way to the surface.

Hands grabbed them. Pulled her from the water. Pulled him. The pounding of her heart was deafening as the lifeguard checked Kent’s breathing and then... and then Kent was on his side, vomiting water.

***

It was quite a small cut, but there was a corresponding large bump on the back of his head. In the ER, someone gave Kent a blanket while he was checked for concussion. Sue was still wrapped in her robe, but she was soaking wet and water was dropping irregularly onto the floor.

‘My colleague needs a towel,’ Kent said to the nurse.

‘Well, we all need something don’t we?’ the nurse retorted.

‘If you slip in the puddle that is forming then you may need someone to check you for a concussion,’ Kent said.

She glanced at the floor, and cursed under her breath. ‘Don’t move, she said. ‘Either of you.’

‘Thank you,’ Sue said to Kent.

He smiled tightly. ‘Given the circumstances, you thanking me seems wildly unnecessary.’

‘You have a peculiar aversion to being thanked,’ Sue said.

Kent tapped his feet together. Someone had found him a pair of canvas shoes. ‘You may have a point.’

‘Of course,’ she said severely. ‘I am always right.’

He nodded. ‘That is becoming increasingly evident.’

Sue wiped water from her face. ‘You have a tattoo on your thigh.’

‘I do.’ He looked down at it. ‘Actually, I have several tattoos.’

‘Of what?’

‘The names of the lost.’ He pursed his lips. ‘That sounded unnecessarily melodramatic. They’re the names of pets and family members whom have passed away.’

Sue’s lips twitched. ‘Pets?’

‘I love my pets deeply,’ he said sincerely. ‘I mourn them when they pass.’

Sue was struggling not to smile. ‘I see.’

The nurse returned to the room and shoved a threadbare towel at Sue.

‘So gracious,’ Kent murmured.

The nurse relaxed a little. ‘I don’t have time to be gracious. We also need this bed. Someone needs to keep an eye on you for the next few hours.’

‘In case of concussion?’ Kent asked.

‘Yeah,’ the nurse said. ‘The near drowning was your big, dramatic problem but you also wanged your head pretty good.’

Sue crossed her legs. Her robe fell open, showing a glimpse of dark skin. ‘I can do that,’ she said. ‘We have the dinner anyway.’

‘Are you sure that it won’t... ruin your enjoyment?’ Kent asked.

Sue looked at him blankly. ‘Only if you keel over.’

‘Great,’ the nurse. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’

 ***

It wasn’t until Sue sat down with a glass of apple juice that she realised what the subtext of Kent’s comment had been.

‘You can’t have alcohol either,’ she said to Kent as he took his seat.

‘I know,’ he said.

‘If I have to be responsible for you then you don’t get to have another.’

Kent wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were dancing. ‘No fun. Understood.’

They had been assigned to a different table with a different set of dinner mates. It was supposed to encourage networking. It merely led to a new round of introductions and the same conversations about jobs, sports, and recent events. It was the third course before they covered _the_ gossip.

‘I can’t believe someone drowned in the pool!’

‘You’re joking!’

‘I heard that too!’

‘Dead?’

‘Not dead,’ Sue said. ‘He was struck when a teenager fell in the pool and he was knocked out but he’s fine.’

‘Oh,’ said one guest, clearly disappointed. ‘Are you absolutely sure? I definitely heard he was dead.’

Sue turned to Kent. ‘Mr Davison, are you dead?’

‘I don’t believe so,’ he said.

There was a sudden rise in interest toward Kent. Several of the women were now paying him far more attention than See expected or found agreeable.

‘Is that true?’ a sultry Asian woman asked.

Kent swallowed a mouthful of sparkling water. ‘Yes. However, Miss Wilson here pulled me from the water.’

The attention shifted to see, which was much preferable.

***

As they left the hall, Kent stopped to look through a window.

‘Mr Davison?’

‘I really think that you’ve earned calling me by my first name,’ he said, not looking away from the window.

‘Kent, is something wrong?’

Now he looked at her. ‘I could have died today.’

Sue set her shoulders. ‘You could have died yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that, all the way back to the day you were born.’

He put his hands into his pockets. ‘I’m making you uncomfortable.’

‘Yes.’

‘Apologies.’ He licked his lips. ‘I thought I might take a walk.’

Sue looked past him out of the window. ‘Along the beach might be particularly pleasant.’

Kent shift uncomfortably. ‘Would you care to come along with me?’

‘Yes.’

The weather had grown a little more temperate. Sue wrapped her shawl around her shoulders as they walked along the sand.

‘Is it too cold for you?’ Kent asked in concern.

‘No. Merely a little cool.’

They brushed against each other as they walked. Sue’s fingers touched the back of Kent’s hand, the back of his fingers, and his fingertips. Kent glanced at her. She noticed but looked ahead. She saw him trying to ascertain her intentions, and she restrained a smile.

She entwined their fingers. His hand was large and warm but his touch was gentle. She saw Kent close his eyes for a moment and heard him release a sigh.

‘How do feel?’ Sue asked.

His eyes snapped open and he looked at her.

‘You did nearly drown,’ she prompted.

‘An.’ He ran his thumb across the back of her hand. ‘I’m tired, but also somewhat agitated.’

‘Understandable.’ Sue scanned the horizon. ‘There’s a bench over there. Shall we sit down for a minute or two?’

‘I’d like that.’

The sand was damp from the tide and grains stuck to her sandals, scattered across her toes like sequins.

Kent brushed the bench off with his hand before they sat down. In front of them, the moon was heavy and gibbous.

A handful of stars were scattered across the sky and the only sound Sue could hear was the ocean.

She took Kent’s hand in hers. He looked at her.

‘I should take a photograph of the view.’ Sue said. ‘Amy would be envious’

‘It is beautiful,’ Kent said. ‘But my view is better than yours.’

‘Why?’

He just smiled.

Sue thought about it. ‘Oh. Don’t be sappy or romantic at me.’

Kent chuckled. ‘Romantic is bad?’

‘Appalling.’

Kent nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’ll do my best to avoid anything like that.’

Sue gently squeezed his fingers. ‘See that you do.’

Kent licked his lips. ‘Where do you stand on kissing?’

She shifted on the bench so that they were facing each other. ‘Are you asking if you may kiss me?’

‘I’m considering it,’ he said honestly.

‘Hmm.’ Sue gave it some thought. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. A tiny, tentative kiss at first, and then a second, more confident one.

She felt him gently put his hand to her face, cupping her cheek in his palm.

‘Let’s go to the hotel,’ Sue murmured.

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

The End

 

 


End file.
